


Toybox

by briwd



Category: JAG, NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briwd/pseuds/briwd
Summary: Written for the 2016 WEE challenge on NFA off a prompt: the NCIS characters in another career field, being the people we know and love (or hate). A gruff ex-Marine runs the night shift of the sports department of a mid-sized Pennsylvania city and a young student begins her first week as a clerk. Sometimes things are quiet, sometimes not, but you never know when things'll get crazy.





	1. Chapter 1

_Always work as a team._

_Don't believe what you're told. Double check._

_\--Leroy Jethro Gibbs_

 

 

 

**Stillwater, Pennsylvania**

 

_Founded in 1903, The Post-Times is the media publication of record for the Stillwater metro area of 605,470 residents. With a daily circulation of 181,060, The Post-Times is the third largest newspaper in Pennsylvania and the 50th largest in the United States. Through its print, online and social media platforms, The Post-Times covers both Stillwater and the Keystone State..._

 

**Labor Day**

 

Ziva David arrived at The Post-Times building for her first day at work a bit early.

 

As in two o'clock in the afternoon early.

 

Dressed in a jacket, shirt, slacks and a headscarf, Ziva thought she was dressed appropriately for her job as a clerk. She hoped it met with the approval of the editor, a family friend who helped her get the job.

 

There weren't as many people there as she anticipated; other than the lone security guard at the back entrance, she saw no one until getting off the elevator at the third floor. Even then, there were only a few people in the newsroom, and no one in the darkened sports area.

 

Ziva turned the lights on, looking around at the desks, computers and offices. She found her desk and began logging onto her computer. She typed her password in the first time.

 

Then the second. A third. And a fourth. Each time a prompt appeared on her monitor telling her she had typed in the wrong password.

 

"Oooooooooohhhh," Ziva growled. "This thing is driving me UP the HALL."

 

As she typed in the password for the fifth time, the phone rang. The clock next to the television against the far wall read 2:06. It was time to get to work.

 

"Hello," she said after picking up the handset.

 

_"Yeh, is this the sports section of the paper?"_

 

"Yes."

 

_"Good. Ah gotta game to call in. Vollaball. Shunk."_

 

Ziva couldn't quite understand the caller. "Excuse me, did you say you had to something bought a ball for your skunk? ... Hello, sir, are you there?"

 

_"Ladeh, ah ain't got no skunk. Ah'm callin' in a vollaball match. Shunk an' Saint Simon."_

 

She took a moment or three to figure out what the caller was saying. "Are you calling to provide sports news or results."

 

_"Yeh."_

 

"What do you wish to provide?"

 

They went back and forth, the caller getting more and more frustrated until he resorted to very simple measures to get his point across. _"AH. WANT. TO. CALL. IN. A. VOLL. E. BALL. SCORE."_

 

"Oh. You wish to give a sports result."

 

_"YES!!!!!!"_

 

Ziva remembered she hadn't been able to log onto her computer and didn't see anything on her desk to write with. She told that to the caller, then told him she would look for a pen and pad. Leaving the handset on the desk, she walked around the various desks, finally spotting a pencil and large pad. She took them back to her desk, then picked the headset up.

 

_"What in HAIL were ya doin' lady?!?!?"_

 

"I had to find something to write with and on."

 

_"They ain't got computers up there?"_

 

"Yes."

 

_"Yew know how to USE one?!?!?"_

 

"Yes. But I cannot access it at the moment."

 

_"Ack...cess...what're yew IN, lady? G.E.D. skewl???"_

 

"I am in the sports department of The Post-Times newspaper--"

 

After hearing a frustration-fueled scream, some choice profanities and the sound of something hitting a wall, Ziva got the score from the caller. Before she could thank him for calling in the score, he hung up.

 

 _That was rude_ , she thought. _I wonder if that is normal behavior here in America._

 

Ziva picked up the piece of paper with her username and password, then typed in both for the fifth time. She got locked out.

 

"AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!" Ziva's scream was heard by the three other people in the newsroom, including a man in T-shirt, shorts and sunglasses making his way into sports.

 

She watched as he tossed his gym bag on the floor and put his food bag, and soft drink, on one of the desks arranged in an oval. Then he looked up at her as took a double cheeseburger and fries out of the food bag and put them on the desk, next to his phone.

 

And then he did a double take.

 

"You're not the Agate Gremlin," he said.

 

"I do not know what a 'gut gremlin' is," she answered. "I do not know who you are, either. My name is Ziva David."

 

"Zee-vah Dah-veed...got it, I think. Where're ya' from?"

 

"Israel."

 

"THE Israel?"

 

Ziva nodded.

 

"Huh. You sure are a long way from home."

 

"I am a student, at the University of Stillwater. I am studying journalism."

 

"Real-ly," he said. "Newsroom's back there."

 

"Oh. I am the new sports clerk. Today is my first day. And you have yet to tell me YOUR name."

 

"Tony DiNozzo. I'm a copy editor."

 

"Toe-nee Dee-no-zo. You edit stories, yes?"

 

"Yeah, and I'm also running the copy desk tonight. Ducky runs it during the week."

 

"Okay," Ziva said. "What is a ‘gut’ gremlin?"

 

Tony smiled as he looked her up and down. "Say what?"

 

Ziva smirked as she looked him up and down. "You said I was not the ‘gut’ gremlin when you came in. What IS a ‘gut’ gremlin?"

 

Tony kept smiling as he tried to figure out what this girl was saying.

 

Then he figured it out, and laughed. "Agate, not 'a gut'," he said. "It's that teeny-tiny print in newspapers -- like OURS -- for baseball boxscores, racing results, college football standings. The stuff you'll be doing?"

 

"Yes," she replied. "During my interview for this job Jenny said I would be assisting in production of sports results, tables, fixtures and other relevant information. Now WHO is the a-GAT gremlin?"

 

A few moments later, Tony remembered what she was asking about. "Ohhh. That would be your boss, Palmer. Not much older than you, skinny, wears glasses, got lost when they sent him to cover games so they put him on the desk. He's been working lots of overtime the last month. I expected to see him, not you."

 

As it turned out, Jimmy Palmer had the night off. Another clerk, Damon Werth, was the next sports staffer to arrive; he would fill in for Palmer this night. Copy editors Cassie Yates, Dwayne Wilson and Tony Francis and page designer Marty Pearson soon followed.

 

Ziva finally got her password straightened out (courtesy of Kevin Hussein from tech support), and spent the night getting a crash course in her job duties from Werth. She also answered a few calls -- from people she could understand -- and listened to Tony regale everyone with stories mostly about himself.

 

Labor Day turned out to be rather uneventful. Tony wanted to talk to Ziva some more, but he was too busy with the desk, she too busy training with Werth.

 

As the work night came to an end, Ziva asked if the rest of the week would be like tonight.

 

Everyone chuckled. Tony laughed, a little longer than Ziva thought was normal.

 

By week's end, she'd find out what a typical week really was like.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tuesday**

 

Leroy Jethro Gibbs lived in a quiet neighborhood less than twenty minutes from work. A widower, he was friendly with his neighbors but generally kept to himself when at home.

 

Gibbs's job as night assistant sports editor meant that he worked when his neighbors were home for dinner or out on the town, and that he was at home when they were at work or at school. When they slept, he usually was wide awake.

 

But he wasn't on his couch watching reruns, old movies, or infomercials. Whoever dared to come to his house overnight only needed to follow the smell of coffee all the way to his basement.

 

Although he kept his doors locked, regular visitors knew how to get in. Once they got through inside, they would find Gibbs in some stage of building a full-size boat and he'd usually acknowledge them with a glance. If he thought they were going to be there awhile, Gibbs would walk over to his workbench and pour some whiskey into an empty jar.

 

It was 4:31 a.m., late enough for the neighbors to be asleep and early enough to watch the morning news on one of the local network affiliates. Gibbs heard the front door open, and the footsteps to the basement entrance.

 

"Do you ever sleep?" asked his boss, Jenny Shepard, as she made her way down the stairs.

 

"Told ‘ya a thousand times, Jen. Sleep's overrated," Gibbs said as he stepped towards the coffee pot on his workbench, then poured her and himself a cup. "Didn't expect you to be up this early."

 

"It's going to be a big day, Jethro," said the sports editor of The Post-Times as she took her cup. "A big week."

 

"Scuttlebutt--"

 

"Whatever you've heard from the newsroom isn't much closer to the truth than those internet message boards," she replied. "It's not going to be as bad as you think."

 

"I'm going to lose people, though."

 

"WE -- the paper -- probably won't lose anyone. We'll gain some people in fact--"

 

"But I'll lose some, maybe all, of my people."

 

"I can't talk about anything, yet, with you or Leon," Jenny said. "Rabb's put a gag order on me regarding specifics until nine o'clock, this morning. You two find out then, the newsroom and the public find out tomorrow."

 

"You can tell me now, Jen," Gibbs said. "I don't know how to twit, blog, or book...and I won't tell Leon."

 

Jenny smirked, then frowned. "I hope you got your rest," she said, walking up the stairs. "Nine a.m. We'll meet afterwards."

 

After she left, Gibbs finished his cup of coffee, then went upstairs just in time to take the newspaper straight from the delivery person. Downstairs, he read thru the sports section while thinking about when certain people might show up for that meeting.

 

**Later**

**The Post-Times Building**

 

Gibbs looked through his well-marked copy of the sports section. He circled headlines, put asterisks next to cutlines, and crossed out whatever he found badly- or not-so-well-written. Stories, photos, Scoreboard, even Page Two didn't escape his pen -- which had just run out of ink.

 

Hence, Gibbs went looking for a replacement. He found one in the supply room, then headed to the rear elevator. He took it from the newsroom on the third floor to the first floor, where he headed for the Kay Stone Room.

 

Named after a former publisher of the newspaper, the room would be where the meeting Jen told Gibbs about would be held. It was 8:14, and the only people in the room besides himself were a man setting up the projector and a former Sports staffer.

 

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Gibbs walked towards the front of the room, where the ex-staffer, now a columnist in News, sat in an aisle seat. With a nod, Gibbs sat next to Budrick J. "Bud" Roberts Jr.

 

"Hey," said Bud, who nervously looked around the room, especially both entrances.

 

"Roberts," Gibbs said. "Read your story on the farmer outside Williamsport. Good job."

 

That was as good of a compliment as Gibbs usually gave anyone at work. It was better than anything Bud got for his "Bud on Sports" column. First chance he got, Bud took his friend Harm up on his offer to move to the news side.

 

"Thanks," said Bud, who was a little shocked at the compliment. "It isn't the toybox, but there ARE a lot of good stories outside of it."

 

"Never doubted it," Gibbs replied, as he sipped his coffee. "You're here early."

 

"I, uh, wanted to get a good seat," Bud said. "And Mr. Rabb said it's always good to arrive early."

 

"Did he, now? Did he say anything about why we're here?" Gibbs asked. Bud sat there, looking forward, determined to outlast Gibbs's glare.

 

Bud lasted all of four minutes.

 

"Hub," he whispered. "Stillwater lucked out. Bell's opening a regional hub here."

 

"What does that mean?" Gibbs replied.

 

"It means nobody gets laid off."

 

"Laid off?"

 

"Yeah. We'll all get to stay on. A lot of people will get opportunities upstairs, where they're going to build the hub."

 

"Who gets 'opportunities upstairs'?"

 

"Pretty much the entire copy desk, all the designers, some editors. Maybe even you."

 

Gibbs bristled, making Bud extremely uncomfortable, especially as he looked at both entrances twice. "They're going to try to take my desk."

 

"There's no 'trying', Gibbs, they can and ... wait a second. I'm not supposed to breathe a word about -- look what you made me do!"

 

"I did?"

 

"Yeah, and I've said too much. Mr. Rabb will kill me if he finds out about this!"

 

"Don't worry, I won't tell him," Gibbs said, getting up to leave. "He already knows about it anyway."

 

"He knows a lot more, Gibbs," Bud said as he turned around in his seat. He shut his mouth as soon as he saw news editor Sarah MacKenzie walk in; she was accompanied by assistant editor-in-chief Sturgis Turner and a host of department heads from throughout the company.

 

Gibbs gave them a curt nod, then snuck out when editor-in-chief Harmon Rabb walked in through the opposite entrance. It was 8:26, and Gibbs walked out to the courtyard to stew.


	3. Chapter 3

**Later that afternoon**

 

The morning meeting was intended to be kept among those who 'needed to know' for the time being. The rank and file were to find out on Wednesday.

 

Instead, someone anonymously went on Twitster and posted the details of a similar meeting in Bremerton, Washington. It was the only topic of conversation throughout The Post-Times Building and the local television stations led with it on their noon newscasts.

 

Jenny and Vance spent the bulk of their day in meetings, on the phone and in person dealing with the fallout of the Twitster post. Gibbs either was at his desk spooking the reporters who normally never had to work with him, or walking up to the lunchroom for refills on his coffee.

 

Ziva was the first among the night shift to arrive. Jenny came back in shortly afterwards, and invited Ziva in her office for a chat.

 

When she left Jenny's office, most of the remainder of the night shift had begun to arrive.

 

The first was Donald "Ducky" Mallard, the regular slot editor who ran the copy desk five nights a week. He was an older man, wearing a shirt, suspenders and a rather dapper reddish bowtie, and introduced himself to Ziva.

 

"My dear, it is such a pleasure to meet you," he said to her. "I once had the honor of spending a fortnight in Tel Aviv. This was after I left The Star of London and was on my way to interview for an editing job in Dubai. Unfortunately, the interview fell through, but a dear colleague informed me of an opportunity here in the States, in Boston. So, I took advantage of my unexpected vacation and took in not just the sights of Tel Aviv, but also side trips to Ashdod, to..."

 

Ziva smiled, politely, at this nice man who was definitely not at a loss for words.

 

Shortly afterwards, two more copy editors, Dwayne Wilson from the night before, and Nikki Jardine walked in. Wilson greeted Ziva, while Jardine waved hello and proceeded to wipe down her chair, keyboard, mouse and monitor with sanitizing wipes.

 

Right behind them were Marty Pearson, the designer from the night before, and a tall, pig-tailed woman garbed in a black outfit named Abby Scuito.

 

Abby's clothing was unique not just compared to those around her, but anyone Ziva had ever seen (she would later learn Abby called it 'Happy Goth'). It was as different from the shirt and tie combos and blouses seen in the newsroom (and Ducky's bow tie), as her 44-ounce Caf!-Pow was to the coffee cups and soft drink cans seen on most desks.

 

Pearson also waved hello to Ziva. Abby nearly knocked Ziva off her feet by running up to her and wrapping her in an overly friendly hug.

”OmigoshyoumustbethenewgirlI'msohappytomeetyouandthatyou'reheredidyoumeetaanybodyyet--"

 

Ziva said yes, again and again, hoping that the others weren't quite as enthusiastic with their greetings.

 

The final group to arrive was headed by Tony, who was whispering to a pony-tailed brunette named Kate Todd. Ziva judged, correctly, that whatever Tony said to Kate made her mad -- and that Tony found that to be amusing.

 

"You're disgusting," Kate told him. Tony grinned, and Ziva wondered what on earth had gotten into him as he waved at her. Kate nodded to her.

 

They were trailed by a couple of younger men not much older than herself. Tim McGee was well-dressed in a shirt and jacket and introduced himself with a handshake. Jimmy Palmer, bespectacled and more casually dressed, put his gear on the floor at the workstation next to Ziva.

 

“You’re Ziva? I’m Jimmy Palmer, Scoreboard editor,” he said with a wide grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

“And it is a pleasure to meet you…”

 

“Jimmy. You can call me Jimmy,” he said, his grin still spread across his face.

 

Finally, Gibbs made his way in from the newsroom, coffee in hand, and he walked over and introduced himself.

 

"Gibbs."

 

"Hello, Gibbs," Ziva said, standing up to shake his hand. "My name is Ziva David, I am a journalism student at the U of S and I am starting my second night here as a clerk. It is a pleasure to work here at the Post-Times--"

 

Ziva stopped mid-sentence after she noticed his glare. She didn't notice everyone else staring at her. "I am sorry, Gibbs, I did not intend to offend you."

 

"You didn't offend me, Ziva," he said. "And don't apologize."

 

"Don't apologize?"

 

"Sign of weakness. Make sure Palmer shows you the ropes."

 

When Gibbs sat at his seat on the rim, the other copy editors, designers and Palmer settled down to begin their work days, and Ziva followed their lead.


	4. Chapter 4

As everyone settled in and Palmer began asking Ziva about the night before, Jenny walked out of her office and called out for everyone's attention. "Thank you. I have an announcement to make. Yesterday--"

 

Jenny saw Abby's raised hand in the corner of her eye. "Yes, Abby?"

 

"Is this about that Twit about us losing our jobs?" she asked, unleashing a slew of questions from just about everyone in the room. The chatter ceased when Gibbs stood up and put his fingers to his mouth, emitting an extremely loud whistle.

 

"Thank you, Jethro," Jenny said. "As I was about to say, I wanted to introduce the newest member of our staff. Ziva David, sitting across from Jimmy Palmer, began work last night as a clerk, so some of you know her already. I would ask the others, if you haven't done so already, to please introduce yourselves.

 

"Now, as to the reports spreading on social media, I cannot speak to those until tomorrow. At 1 p.m. unless you have a valid excuse, everyone is to gather in the theater, at which time Bell executives will discuss the future of the company--"

 

"Carolinas were told everything this afternoon according to Twitster," Tony interjected. "Bremerton's supposed to be filled in tonight. Us, L.A., New Orleans, Great Lakes, Denver, Norfolk, Newport tomorrow."

 

"Ma'am, Press Report said Bell was talking about making everyone take four weeks of furloughs. Is that true?" asked Jardine, which led to another slew of questions -- and another ear-piercing whistle by Gibbs.

 

Jenny pursed her lips as she briefly considered telling the night shift about the morning meeting. She glanced at Gibbs -- who looked like he was more than willing to fill everyone in – and went with her gut, rather than storm out of the department or lock herself in her office. “I’m going to regret this,” she muttered at as low of a tone as she could muster.

 

“Gonna regret what, Jen?” Gibbs said with a glint in his eye.

 

"There was a meeting amongst local executives and top staff this morning where we were filled in on the details," she said. "We -- Leon, Gibbs and I -- were told by the publisher not to discuss the details until the entire staff can be gathered tomorrow. Unfortunately, that is all I and anyone else" -- she glanced at Gibbs -- "can say on the topic today. Now, Gibbs, Ducky, Abby, Marty, please join me."

 

After they followed Jenny into her office, Ziva turned to Palmer. "What are they doing? Is Gibbs in trouble?" Tony overheard her and chuckled, to her confusion.

 

"They're holding their daily meeting," Kate said. "The editors, slot person and designers go over the budget for tomorrow's newspaper. By the way, I'm Kate."

 

As the others acquainted themselves with Ziva, the meeting began in Jenny's office.

 

"We've got an eight-page section, page-and-a-half of ads," Gibbs said. "Space's gonna be tight with everything we've got to fit in."

 

"It is what it is, Jethro," Jenny replied. "Burley's working on the centerpiece, which is the U of S quarterback looking ahead to going back home for the Memphis game. Coleman has a column on April Stillman playing for the LPGA money lead this weekend--"

 

"Can we not hold that until tomorrow night, Jennifer?" Ducky asked.

 

"Tomorrow's another eight-page section including two pages of ads and we're running the feature on the decathlete," she said. "Barrett's covering Holy Trinity prep volleyball, Levin's covering the Keystone State soccer doubleheader ON deadline, Cassidy's covering U of S volleyball. Grady has her Stillwater Derby stories in already."

 

"The Taylor suspension has to be the centerpiece, Jen," Gibbs said. "Lead story on ZNN--"

 

"Chegwidden's column is about that; we're putting Faith inside," Jenny interjected. Our mandate is local, Jethro, but we've already been over that. Taylor can go along the top--"

 

"Jennifer, I also believe the Taylor story should be our centerpiece tonight," Ducky said. "Colin Taylor is a Hall of Fame professional basketball player. His admission to the use of performance-enhancing drugs is deservedly a major story nationally and should be treated the same by us."

 

Abby raised her hand, again. "Why isn't news taking that story?"

 

"Rabb," Gibbs said, speaking of the paper's editor-in-chief. "'Toybox' is where stories like Taylor go. A-1's where you put 'important' stories."

 

"Such as 'Bud on Life'," Ducky added. "But we should all be mindful of the potential Rabb and his cronies -- pardon me, friends -- see in their friend and colleague as the next Dave Barry."

 

Jenny rubbed her forehead in exasperation. "Not this again, gentlemen..." She and Gibbs began to argue over the Taylor story, with Ducky and Abby adding their opinions.  Pearson sat back, shut up, and imagined himself on a beach living off his LottoBall Billion winnings.

 

The commotion could be heard outside by everyone, but only Ziva openly acknowledged it, turning around to look at the 'discussion'. "Are they always like this?"

 

"You should've been here when she wanted to put a pro wrestling event on the front because one of the wrestlers was from here," McGee said. "Ducky and Abby had to put the section together themselves because Jenny and Gibbs were in a glare-off."

 

"I do not know what that means."

 

"It means they--" McGee stopped at the sound of a sketch pad being slammed down on the desk next to his. He turned and saw Kate holding up the pad, glaring at Tony, pointing at a volleyball score written on one of the pages. "DiNozzo!"

 

Tony spread his arms out and said "What?!?" but Kate didn't believe him for a second. "Smiley faces. Frowny faces. Groucho Marx glasses and mustaches drawn over my sketches. STICK FIGURES doing God knows WHAT to each other. I TOLD you to keep your pervy hands off this pad and the rest of my things--"

 

"I didn't do anything," he protested to no avail.

 

Kate kept glaring at him as she stormed to his desk, pointing to the score written on the page. "How many Post-It notepads do you have in your desk that you've stolen from Paula, McGee or myself that you could've written THIS on?"

 

As Kate went off on Tony, Ziva leaned in and asked Palmer why Kate was reacting so strongly. Palmer leaned over and whispered about the talking fish Tony taped to Kate's monitor and the emails he sent to her ex-boyfriend asking for the 'scoop' on her love life. "That's just in the last week," he said.

 

If true, Ziva thought, Tony deserved to be yelled at for the email (and perhaps for the fish, depending on what it said). But he didn't deserve Kate's wrath over the volleyball score, and for some reason Ziva didn't quite understand, she felt a little sorry for him.

 

"I wrote that score," Ziva said, causing Kate to turn around. She explained why she wrote it on the pad and -- despite what Gibbs said earlier -- apologized.

 

Kate's eyes popped out as she stood frozen in shock. "No one here's ever apologized to me before for anything," she softly said.

 

"It will not happen again," Ziva said, causing Kate, and others, to give her a double-take. "No no NO...I mean it will happen again...I MEAN I will not hesitate to not use your sketch pad again..."

 

Ziva stopped before she could dig herself in deeper.

 

Inside Jenny's office, she and Gibbs had come to an agreement: the Taylor story needed to run in the paper, on the front page. Where they differed was on which section's front page.

 

The dilemma was resolved once they saw a copy of the news budget.

 

As Ziva diligently erased last night's volleyball score from Kate's pad, Gibbs shot out of Jenny's office and headed right for the newsroom, with Jenny chasing him and Abby running after them both.

 

Tony stood up and turned to watch, then turned back to face Ducky and Pearson, both of whom opted to walk out to news. "Ducky?"

 

"Once again, Anthony, the irresistible force meets the immovable object."

 

Gibbs saw the lights off in Rabb's, MacKenzie's and Turner's offices, and Jenny thanked the gods all three of them had left for the day.

 

The highest-ranking news manager on site -- Tobias Fornell, night assistant news editor -- groaned when he saw his counterpart rampaging into the newsroom. This time, Gibbs bypassed him and headed right for designer Carol Wilson.

 

"You got that front page designed?" Gibbs barked.

 

"Dammit, Gibbs! We've just started on the section--" Fornell protested, only to stop after seeing Wilson's raised hand.

 

"More than. It's already set." She opened the PageImager design software on her Amiga, called up page A-1, and printed off copies for everyone.

 

The impending move to a regional hub -- written by Rabb himself, with art by photo editor Harriet Sims (Bud's fiancee) -- was the centerpiece of A-1. The rest of the page was taken up by columns from Davenport and Roberts, and associated stories by MacKenzie and Turner.

 

"They drug me in after that meeting, Jethro, and told me that’s what we're going to run with," Fornell said, apologetically. Everyone else on the news rim tried to look too busy to be dragged into Gibbs’s latest outburst. "Rabb said, and I quote, 'nothing short of World War III or the Second Coming is going to bust up this page. Anything newsworthy around here and in the rest of the world runs on A-3’."

 

"Does that include Colin Taylor, Tobias? Or does Bud have a second column that also takes precedence?" Jenny said. She didn’t relish the eventual conversation she’d have with Rabb, but she wasn’t going to throw her people under the bus.

 

Fornell thumbed through a news budget on his desk. "I've got that budgeted," he said to Jenny and Gibbs's surprise. "We'll re-fer to it along the top of A-1. I assume Chegwidden's writing a column?"

 

That satisfied Gibbs, which in turn relieved Jenny. “That works for us,” she said as she glanced at Gibbs, who seemed to be sufficiently satisfied. “Thank you, Tobias.”

 

As quickly as she turned to go back to the ‘toybox’, Gibbs was at her side, while Abby kept pace behind them. “Right now, I want nothing more than to go home and have a glass of wine,” Jenny said.

 

“Must be nice, to go home at night,” Gibbs said. “My day’s just starting.”

 

“And it’s going to be a quiet day,” she said after stopping just shy of the sports area. “Stick to the budget, Jethro. Don’t dare blow up the section unless Armageddon happens tonight".

 

“If that happens, Jen, do I call you first or call Rabb—”

 

“I’m SERIOUS, Jethro.”

 

Gibbs took the measure of his former lover and now direct supervisor. “As serious as you took La Grenouille?”

 

Abby’s eyes grew wide at the reference. There was no blowup between Gibbs and Jenny, as she simply walked away from them and into her office, gathered her things, and headed home.


	5. Chapter 5

The Times-Post had two editions. The early edition went out throughout northern Pennsylvania and portions of southern New York state along the state border; the final edition went throughout metro Stillwater and to the state capital in Harrisburg, plus the cities of Scranton, State College and Wilkes-Barre. The early edition had to be finished usually by 11:30 p.m., the final edition by 1 a.m. Unless something big broke around those times, the pages went to the pressroom, where they would be printed as part of the next day's edition.

 

With the workday lasting roughly from 4 p.m. to one in the morning, night shift employees -- including clerks -- had an hour for lunch, which they usually took from 8 to 9. Reporters had Jenny, Vance and Gibbs on speed dial, and coaches knew (usually) not to call between 8 and 9.

 

As soon as everyone returned from lunch, the telephones began ringing off the hook with high school soccer, volleyball and field hockey results. Palmer's phone was lit up like a Christmas tree, largely because Ziva was nowhere to be found.

 

Annoyed that McGee, Kate, Wilson and Jardine had to take calls, Gibbs told Ducky to have Palmer look for Ziva. Then Gibbs looked around the rim and realized Tony was nowhere to be found. Slamming down his coffee cup, Gibbs headed toward the breakroom.

 

That's where Tony was regaling Ziva.

 

"Guess who this is?" He pretended to cry while staring at the floor. "'Look how they massacred my boy!'...got a guess, Ziva?"

 

"I will try...I know! The man who stares at goats!"

 

Tony's jaw hit the floor. "That's the name of a MOVIE, Ziva! Who's the actor?"

 

She thought for a moment or two. "Robert Duvall."

 

Tony slapped his forehead. "Don't you know ANYthing about classic cinema? Marlon Brando. The Godfather."

 

"I am not familiar with that movie."

 

"You've never seen The Godfather?!?!?"

 

Ziva explained that life in Israel was very challenging for her, between having a demanding father, a little sister training for the stage and an older brother who "rebelled against abba" and moved to Europe. However, she admitted she had watched some American movies, including one about a newspaper from "the 1990s".

 

After Ziva told him about the movie, Tony thought he had the perfect quote. "You'll know this especially if your professor said it over and over in class," he said. "Here we go...'deadline: A date or time before which something must be done'."

 

Tony waited, and waited, and waited as Ziva pondered the quote.

 

"Come on! You said your professor quoted this all the time and told you who said it! I'll give you a clue -- no, THREE clues. He's older; he was in The Godfather; and he isn't Marlon Brando."

 

She pondered it, looked up and over Tony's shoulder, and went wide-eyed. "Gibbs!"

 

Tony looked at her strangely. "Uh, no, that is NOT the right--"

 

"I mean Gibbs..." Ziva shut up and pointed past Tony, who heard familiar -- and onimous -- footsteps behind him. This time, he felt the _SLAP!_ on the back of his head before he heard the voice.

 

Tony slowly turned around hoping there wouldn't be a first time for a slap on his jaw. "Uh, Boss, um...what's up?"

 

Gibbs pointed to the clock, which read 9:14.

 

"Um...yeah Boss, me and Ziva kinda lost track of the time." He glanced at Ziva, who shook her head. "Or, um, maybe I--"

 

"The quote, DiNozzo."

 

"Quote?"

 

"The quote from the movie, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in that calm, deliberate manner that always made Tony a little too nervous. "The quote you said Ziva knew. Do YOU know it?"

 

"Yeah, oh yeah, Boss!"

 

"Repeat it to me."

 

"Okay...uh, 'deadline: A date or time before which something must be done'...but Boss, it's not even 9:30 yet--"

 

"I've got McGee, Kate, Jardine and Wilson helping Palmer take high school scores because he doesn't have any help. That's because you're back here yakkin' to her."

 

Ziva stepped forward and put herself next to Gibbs. "Gibbs, I should've known--"

 

"Yeah, Ziva, you should've. Go back there and help Palmer." She got the hint and hurried back to sports, leaving Gibbs and Tony alone.

 

Gibbs walked over to the coffee maker and refilled his cup, then turned back to Tony.

 

"I don't know what happened in Peoria and Philadelphia and I still don't know why the bastards in Baltimore looked the other way," he said. "You're very good at this job. One of the best young copy editors I've worked with. When you're focused you're at least very good, sometimes great. Yet you pull this crap."

 

Tony started to say a dozen things and stopped himself each time. "No sense jamming my foot further in my mouth, Boss."

 

"Nope."

 

"So, uh, I think I'll get back to work now, Boss."

 

"And?"

 

"And read Paula's story."

 

"Yeah, and since you've blown your break, unless you're about to make a mess of yourself, you're gonna stay glued to your chair until your shift ends." Gibbs took a drink from his cup, then gestured towards sports.

 

Of course, Tony followed him there. No one in the room said anything about the incident, and the rest of the evening passed uneventfully.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Wednesday**

 

The meeting in the theatre proceeded as expected, with Rabb and a couple of ‘suits’ from Bell confirming the existence of the Stillwater hub. Copy editors and designers would work not just on the Stillwater paper, but on 17 other Bell publications from Sandusky, Ohio to Atlantic City, beginning New Year’s Day. Other hubs were to open simultaneously in Chicago, Los Angeles, New Orleans, Norfolk, Rhode Island, Honolulu and Denver, with job openings for copy editors, designers and ‘compilers’ (people to compile roundups of national and world news).

 

Every designer – including Abby – in the Bell network of publications would move up to one of the hubs. The Post-Times, along with the other Bell publications, would lose positions on their copy desks, but those losses would be countered by openings at one of the regional hubs. Locally, Gibbs was going to lose some of his copy editors, either to the hub or elsewhere. He may be left with himself and two or three editors, plus Palmer, Ziva and Werth on the agate desk. Reporters and columnists would not be affected; nor would editors, although Jenny and Vance might have to take on some copy desk duties (which humored Gibbs).

 

That was as clear as Bell representatives, and Rabb, wanted to get about the hub. All other questions at the meeting were sidestepped or ignored. Those looking for answers best got them through scuttlebutt, or by reading through the lines of rumors reported on Twitster, PeepBook and websites ran by company and industry watchdogs.

 

Shockingly to everyone, Gibbs stayed quiet throughout the presentation, although he was brusque in his brief interactions with Rabb and his ‘friends’. After both Wednesday editions were put to bed – prepared to go to press – Gibbs went straight home to his basement, and to his boat. He pulled his truck into his driveway and waited for Fornell, who often came by the basement after the metro was put to bed to talk about the day’s events, or an ex-wife, or the latest news.

 

“Whiskey, Gibbs?” Fornell said as he walked down the stairs into the basement and saw a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels next to two half-full jars on the workbench. “Didn’t you promise your doctor that you’d lay off the hard stuff?”

 

“Told him I wouldn’t abuse it,” Gibbs answered. “Won’t take long to brew some coffee upstairs in the kitchen, if you’d rather have that.”

 

“This day calls for a drink or two, max. I do have to drive home,” Fornell said as he pulled up a stool to the workbench, sat down and grabbed a jar. “Scuttlebutt turned out to be on the mark.”

 

“Pays to be in management, Tobias. You gonna take one of those hub jobs?”

 

“At some point, Jethro, I won’t have a choice.”

 

“Always have a choice.”

 

“Who’s going to hire a 50-year-old news editor. Besides Bell.”

 

“You could always take the buyout and start that second career you’ve talked about.”

 

“FBI isn’t hiring 50-year-olds, either. I suppose if they offer me a hub job, I’d take it. What about you?”

 

Gibbs pondered his answer. Ever since his first wife and their daughter died in a car accident, Gibbs had thrown himself into his job. He expected to retire years down the road, living on his company and Marine pensions, his 401K and Social Security.

 

Gibbs glanced at the half-built frame of the boat along the opposite wall, and reckoned he might have to start building boats soon for extra income. “Company doesn’t like troublemakers, Tobias.”

 

“I hear the person who’ll run the hub will come from here. I think Higgins is going to take it, and he’ll do right by you.”

 

“You know how they make the baloney here, Tobias.”

 

“Yeah, and I also know more people have your back than you think. The highest person you’ve pissed off was the publisher. Jarvis—”

 

“Is a company man.”

 

“—who knows how valuable you are to this paper. Rabb does, too. So do Jenny, Vance, Higgins and a lot of other people.”

 

“You’re not seeing the big picture.”

 

“I am seeing it, Jethro. I also see that, right now, they need us to make this thing work.”

 

Gibbs took a drink. “Can’t control this, Tobias. Can’t control what these bastards will or won’t do.”

 

“We never could, Jethro, although God only knows how you got them to bend as often as they did.”

 

Gibbs chuckled. “Your people as nervous as mine?”

 

“Every bit. Told them what you told yours.”

 

“They’re in a good place to get those jobs.”

 

“So are we,” Fornell said. He got off the stool and headed towards the stairs, and the kitchen near the doorway. “Put the bottle away. I’ll make the coffee.”

 

“Thanks,” Gibbs said.  He took one more drink from his jar, and sighed. Fornell was right: there would be a place for him in the new world of journalism. He’d also have enough money to live on, and usable skills, when the company finally thanked him for his years of service and bid him farewell.

 

He wasn’t worried so much about himself, however, as for the younger people he managed and mentored. Would they have a place in the industry long-term, or would they have to find a new career? And should he advise them to start looking?


	7. Chapter 7

Thursday

 

Gibbs hoped this would a routine fall Thursday night. Earlier in the day, Jenny announced Levin as the new U of S football beat reporter. That would merit a short story, along with features by Burley and Grady, advances on Friday night’s prep football games and the opening of the National Football League’s regular season. Major League Baseball’s light four-game schedule didn’t include the Phillies nor Pirates, both of whom had the day off.

 

“Smooth sailing” was how DiNozzo characterized things, and yet Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go awry.

 

Around 6 o'clock, while the copy, design and agate desks discussed the news about the hub, Gibbs went for a short walk on his break. Coffee cup in hand, he nodded at Fornell near the front elevators. The two men went through the first set of doors that opened, and moments later Gibbs hit the button that stopped the elevator, dimming the lights.

 

"I'm going out with Diane again, Jethro," Fornell said.

 

"Yeah. You both showed up at my house, on my porch, this morning. You asked me for my blessing, remember? Having second thoughts?"

 

"Still feels like I cut myself out of the belly of a snake and crawled back in."

 

"Yeah. That's what I figured," Gibbs replied, and the two men shared a laugh. “They talk to you yet?"

 

Fornell paused. "Yeah. I got three options: 'Local News Manager' on the third floor, or 'Team Leader' upstairs. Or, early retirement. They talk to you?"

 

"Not about that. Just the usual daily stuff."

 

"There’s something you need to know, then. Rabb spoke with Jarvis this morning and suggested some ‘cost-saving measures’.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Hiring kids right out of college. Entry-level wages. Encourage some older people to take early retirement, others to move into the hub. Of course, his people are the exception. They’ll get new positions and fancy titles to go with them."

 

"Unless the Bureau’s hiring, looks like you’re going upstairs to the eighth floor.”

 

"Probably. Maybe by then, I'll have won the lottery and moved to my palatial estate far, far away from this crap. Me, Diane, Emily and the belly of the snake."

 

Gibbs flipped the switch that got the elevator moving again. He and Fornell rode it up, then back down to the third floor; when the door opened, they saw Vance, Gibbs’s counterpart on the ‘dayside’.

 

"Gentlemen," Vance said with a smile. "Discussing work, I take it?"

 

"Just on break, Leon," Gibbs said.

 

"Would you give us a minute, Fornell?"

 

Fornell excused himself, and Vance and Gibbs walked through the newsroom towards sports.

 

"MacKenzie, Turner and Sims were very perturbed that you used your 'office' again and especially perturbed they had to take the steps," Vance said. "With the changes coming on the horizon, Gibbs, you may want to revisit some of your more enduring but peculiar habits."

 

"Can't always go out in the courtyard, Leon," Gibbs said.

 

"Maybe not. There's always the area where typesetting used to be. Or the conference room."

 

"This about the elevator, Leon?"

 

"It's about a lot of things that will become apparent soon," Vance said as they approached sports. “Things I don’t know any more about than you do, before you ask. Tonight, I'm on call, hopefully spending a quiet Thursday night with Jackie and the kids. And I hope you and the desk have a quiet night as well."

 

Gibbs nodded to Vance, who headed towards the rear elevator, while he headed towards sports. Vance was installed by Jarvis after the La Grenouille story that nearly got Jenny fired. Officially, he had the same rank in the chain of command as Gibbs, but it was known that Vance was more of a company person: he would likely replace Jenny if or when she stepped down. Gibbs also knew that Rabb – and Jarvis – were not above using Vance to send Gibbs a message.

 

Gibbs would ponder that message when he got home.  For now, there were two editions to get out.

 

"TONY!" Gibbs walked in and saw McGee holding up his keyboard, his fingers superglued to them. DiNozzo was the only person in the room snickering at the sight; almost everyone else rolled their eyes or ignored it.

 

Ducky sighed, and Gibbs pondered pouring the entire bottle of Super Glue on DiNozzo’s head.

 

"What's up, Probalicious?" DiNozzo said in a fake innocent tone.

 

"This got old the first time, Tony," McGee said. DiNozzo’s chuckle abruptly disappeared after he caught Gibbs’s glare. Kate pulled a bottle of acetone from one of her desk drawers and proceeded to help free McGee's hands.

 

From then on, things proceeded so smoothly that Gibbs was talking about sending everyone home early. At 11:24, Gibbs and Ducky had made a final read on the early edition; seeing no reason to hold on to the section, Gibbs told Abby to send the pages to be typeset. He and Ducky would add in the west coast baseball game and the linescore on the Packers-Texans NFL game.

 

McGee, monitoring his Twitster feed, suddenly spoke up. "Uh, Boss, there’s a Twit that says Amos Hardy's about to die."

 

Amos Hardy was a baseball Hall of Famer from Stillwater who played for the Brooklyn and Los Angeles Dodgers and on four World Series championship teams. The 86-year-old had gone to the hospital on Wednesday complaining of indigestion.

 

"Die, McGee?" Gibbs said. "Two hours ago, they were talking about him going home tomorrow."

 

"Boss, I'm not seeing anything on Twit about Hardy other than what we -- and every other media outlet in town -- reported then," McGee said as he searched the news wires, and Browse, for any mention of Hardy.

 

"Who is this person on Twitster, McGee?" asked Kate. "Network? Reporter?"

 

"Username is 55AliveEagleFan, whoever that is."

 

"I know him," Tony Francis said. "Chad Doyle. He's an intern from Keystone College. He played basketball at Central before blowing out his knee."

 

"This guy Twits selfies and reTwits the Mets," DiNozzo said. "Who follows the METS around here?"

 

"Somebody get the remote, check 55, 14, 12, 2, even the Scranton stations," Gibbs barked. "I'll call Vance."

 

None of the TV stations had any news on Hardy. Within minutes, 55AliveEagleFan’s Twitster account was gone. Vance told Gibbs to send someone from the desk to the hospital; Gibbs sent Francis, reluctantly telling everyone else to sit tight in case there was a story.

 

Shortly before midnight, Palmer took a call coming into the department. "Post-Times Sports ... Who? ... Um, where are you hearing this? ... You're THERE. And he's doing what? ... Really? ... HOW MANY? ... Gigolo? ... Would we be interested in doing a story? I’ll have to check. Would you hold on, please?"

 

Palmer turned to see everyone staring at him.

 

He explained that the caller was a U of S student out with friends at a bar in Wilkes-Barre. The caller alleged that he and his buddies saw U of S's head football coach Xavier Meade pick up "two chicks and a MILF" outside the bar. After they recognized the man and saw him getting into a car with the women, "a hundred cop cars" converged on the scene and arrested them all.

 

"That's one hell of a story," DiNozzo said.

 

"Could be mistaken identity. Or a crank call," McGee added.

 

“Or there’s something to it,” Kate said. “Meade had a reputation when he coached at Great Lakes.”

 

Gibbs had Palmer transfer the caller to him. After talking with the caller, Gibbs put him on hold; as he called Vance, he noticed a collective groan from the desk. He saw Kate and McGee looking at one of the room’s four television screens.

 

“Turn it up,” Gibbs barked at Kate. One of the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton stations confirmed the caller’s report.

 

“—University of Stillwater head football coach Xavier Meade has been arrested and charged with solicitation of a prostitute, NewsCenter 27 has learned. Meade is being held at—”

 

Within two minutes, the Stillwater stations, SSPN, ZNN and the wire services were reporting the story. Meade had jumped to the top of the trending list on Twitster. A quiet Thursday night had suddenly turned chaotic, and Gibbs and Ducky were expertly guiding the desk through the frenzy.

 

Fornell came in and ended up comparing notes with Ducky, while Gibbs talked with both Vance and Levin. He had to put Jenny on hold to take yet another call, one transferred from a flustered Palmer to a calm but insistent Ducky.

 

“Our friend Harmon insists on speaking to you, Jethro,” Ducky said, transferring the editor-in-chief to Gibbs’s phone.

 

"Where are we at on the Meade story?" Rabb roared through Gibbs’s earpiece, loudly enough for Abby, Ducky and Kate to overhear. "We better have something for the front page of sports."

 

"You mean A-1, Rabb, right?" Gibbs said.

 

"It's a sports story, Gibbs, so it goes in your section. I trust you'll have a story before deadline?"

 

"The story just broke. Levin's following up--"

 

"Listen to me Gibbs. We can NOT miss deadline but we cannot NOT have something substantial in the paper either. Fornell's been told to re-fer to it on A-1. YOU make sure that something gets in," Rabb barked before hanging up.

 

With a growl, Gibbs pushed one of the two blinking buttons on his phone deskset. Jenny told Gibbs to ignore Rabb and focus on his job, that she’d worry about ‘something substantial’ making the metro.

 

At 12:12 a.m., Gibbs opened Levin's e-mail attachment containing his writeups for print and the internet. He called Jenny while reading through the story, but stopped upon hearing DiNozzo and McGee shouting expletives.

 

"Boss, some reporter from Channel 2's saying Meade was busted for drugs," DiNozzo said.

 

"The U of S Archrivals writer's saying Meade and the older woman were going to pimp out the younger women," McGee added.

 

"Ewww," Kate said. "ZNN's picked up the story, but claims at least one of the women is transgender. Doesn't--"

 

"Like Amanda Reed?" Abby interjected. "Now THAT was a weird story--"

 

Gibbs abruptly stood up and whistled, getting his copy desk's attention. "DiNozzo. Call Burley, tell him--"

 

"Tell him nothing," shouted Jenny as she rounded the corner from the newsroom, holding her cell phone in her ear. "I've got Simon Cade and Lara Macy working the story with Levin. We're going to run a story across the top. Levin's going to--"

 

She stopped talking as she saw everyone looking at one of the TV monitors, showing SSPN’s GameTime. One of their reporters said Meade was taking the women to a party and got busted for possession of marijuana.

 

Another TV monitor from Stillwater’s Channel 12 had Meade's mugshot, with a graphic below that said

 

STILLWATER COACH ARRESTED ON ASSAULT CHARGES

Twit post claims Meade attacked police during arrest

 

"The story just hit the wire," Kate said. "'Sources tell National Press that Meade was merely escorting the women to dinner'."

 

"Great. Absolutely great," Jenny said sarcastically. "We've got at least a dozen different stories out there.

 

"All the more reason to trust our own reporters, Jennifer," Ducky said. "Show them the trust you've given them before. We weren't first with A story, but we can be the first outlet with the TRUE story--"

 

"That's not going to fly, Mr. Mallard," she replied. "I'm getting pressure from the very top to get something substantial in the newspaper and on time--"

 

"Then let the writers, and US, do our jobs," Gibbs interjected. "When is Levin filing?"

 

"He's to file by quarter ‘til for print, a full story for the web by 1:30," Jenny said. "Abby, add a sorry box with his story and re-fer people to the web. Cade and Macy will file their web sidebars by 2 a.m., Levin will file rewrites as necessary--"

 

DiNozzo stood up to stretch. "'As necessary'?” he said. “Are you saying this could go on all night?"

 

“Hold that thought,” Jenny said as Francis entered the room. “Anything on Amos Hardy?”

 

“Alive and well and asleep,” Francis said, and the desk let out a collective sigh of relief. “I ran into the kid who started that mess at the hospital. He says he got bad information and was sorry.”

 

Gibbs pointed to Francis’s workstation. “You got 20 minutes to write, no more than 10 inches—”

 

“When you’re done, Francis, jump in on the Meade story,” Jenny interjected. “Tony” – she addressed DiNozzo – “you probably won’t have to stay all night. None of you will. Jethro, Ducky and I probably will be here awhile, due to the magnitude of the story. We’re going to give it full coverage on the web since that’s something we can update in real time.”

 

Abby also got to stay late, since Jarvis approved a four-page extra print edition for downtown Stillwater that would go to press after the final edition and go on sale by 7:30. Palmer couldn't leave, as he was needed to field the nonstop phone calls from readers and the occasional call from a reporter.

 

By the time the extra edition hit the street several hours later, the Post-Times had the real story.

 

While his wife and children rested in their East Stillwater home, Meade took his mistress and her daughters out on the town. He was mistaken by an anonymous caller for a New York City mobster who ran a prostitution ring in the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton area. The police swept in as they got into his car and arrested them; although all four were cleared of the prostitution charges, they still were being held for resisting arrest.

 

The four-page extra -- the paper's first since September 11, 2001 -- hit the streets at 7:22. Gibbs sent everyone else home at 5:17, when all the social media posts and phone calls had finally died down.

 

Gibbs decided to stay at work instead of driving home tired, and went to a game room in the features department to nap. He was sound asleep on the couch when his first ex-wife found him, and inadvertently woke him up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Friday**

 

"Wake me up and slap me silly," Diane Gibbs Fornell Sterling whispered when she saw Gibbs sound asleep on the game room’s couch.

 

The Post-Times features editor intended to let him sleep. However, she inadvertently knocked a dart board off the wall, which woke him up.

 

“Sorry, Jethro,” she said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I heard you guys had a long night.”

 

Gibbs stretched his arms, then stood up to stretch some more. "Coffee," was all he said, and he drudged himself towards sports, and the coffee maker he had next to his desk.

 

"There’s a coffee maker to your right underneath the clock," Diane said, pointing to the game room’s Kreig machine. "You DO know how to use a K-Cup maker, right?"

 

He focused on the digital wall clock. 9:23. "Doesn’t taste the same as from a drip maker, Diane."

 

"You guys did great last night," she said. "The section looked good. You couldn't tell that you had probably an hour to shoehorn that story onto the front."

 

"Yeah," Gibbs muttered. Diane realized that came as close to a 'thank you' as he usually gave people. "Hear you're back with Fornell."

 

She filled him in, with detail, on her feelings and thoughts on the matter as he brewed a pot of coffee from the 20-year-old machine in sports.

 

"...and I feel like I walked back to the hornets' nest and let those things get all over me AGAIN. Tell me, Jethro. Have I made a mistake?" Diane asked, ending her monologue nearly a half-hour after she woke Gibbs up.

 

"Do you love him, Diane?”

 

"Yes, of course!”

 

“He loves you?”

 

“Yes. He loves me too. He better. Tobias would NOT want to get on my wrong side again."

 

"Believe me, Diane, I know." That comment made Diane laugh. Gibbs regretted what he put Diane and his two other ex-wives Rebecca and Stephanie through. "Not keeping you from work, am I?"

 

"No. I'm here to take care of some odds and ends," she said. "My 'work' is tonight. The Bellows Ball, the night before tomorrow's Derby. Tons of celebrities this year, Jethro. The actors from that comedy set in Scranton. That rock star Mannheim Gold. Penguins hockey players and maybe the Steelers' quarterback! And this local author, Thom E. Gemcity, who no one's ever met."

 

"Sounds like fun," Gibbs said. "I’m hoping tonight's not as 'fun' as last night was."

 

"Good luck,” she said. “Do you need me to drop you by the house on my way out?"

 

"Nah. I'll drink enough coffee to keep me going," he said. "Sleep’s overrated, and I always pack more than one go bag. Thanks for the company."

 

"Anytime, Jethro," replied Diane, who hoped Gibbs would meet someone who’d give him a life outside work and that damned boat in his basement.

 

**Friday afternoon**

 

Ziva saw McGee get out of his car in the parking lot and waved to him. After he waved back, she decided to linger and accompany him into the building. Despite DiNozzo’s unique personality and his intense interest in her, Ziva found herself wanting to get to know McGee a little better. He was closer to her age, and his quiet, thoughtful personality was appealing to her.

 

The previous night was, as McGee put it, "a madhouse". He didn't wake up until one o'clock in the afternoon, which gave him enough time for a late breakfast and a shower. He explained to Ziva what she should expect on Friday nights.

 

"Craziness, hopefully not quite like last night," he said. "There's high school football through November, and high school basketball from November through March. A couple of Friday nights this month there'll be horse racing at Stillwater Downs and U of S has a football game in October and basketball in November and December. All that to say, you got here just in time for the insanity."

 

"Insanity? This job literally drives one mad?"

 

"It's a figure of speech. Just SEEMS like you're going nuts."

 

They were the last people on the night shift to arrive in sports. Tony talked with Barrett in the reporters' area; Kate stifled a yawn while setting her things down; Jardine wiped down her keyboard, mouse and phone with rubbing alcohol; Francis chugged down the last of an energy drink; and Werth was at the station next to Ziva, both across from Palmer. Inside Jenny's office, she, Vance, Gibbs, Ducky, Abby and Carol Wilson discussed the Friday night budget.

 

Ziva learned how to do horse racing agate, specifically the charts for Friday afternoon's results and Saturday afternoon's entries. She threw question after question at Werth about the sport, and McGee (to DiNozzo’s surprise and annoyance) stepped in to help get her up to speed.

 

For the next few hours it was business as usual. Around the time everyone came back from lunch, the temporary clerks known as the highs crew began to arrive.

 

The first of them was a curmudgeonly older man who, to Ziva, smelled of cigarettes.

 

Mike Franks was the assistant sports editor until his retirement nearly a decade before; at the tail end of his tenure, Gibbs worked the copy desk and Ducky produced Scoreboard. For the past several years, Franks had been working 12 hours a week during football and basketball season as one of the most reliable members of the highs crew.

 

"They still won't let you bring up a six-pack, will they Probie?" Franks said to Gibbs.

 

"Nope," Gibbs replied. "You still gotta smoke outside too, Mike."

 

Franks made his way around the room, Jardine looking disgusted with him and Kate matching him barb for barb. Ziva introduced herself, and Franks declared her to be a "drastic improvement" over some of the previous people to hold a clerk job.

 

"Kids walking out in the middle of their shifts. Kids who can't spell to save their lives. Kids who didn't even know what a football or basketball WAS. Kids who took half-assed boxscores and didn't ask the coach how a one-point game ended--"

 

Franks ranted until he got tired, then asked Palmer if he "found me a halfway-decent highs crew this season". The group included former clerks Gerald Jackson, Alexandra Quinn and holdover Murray Hines, plus Keystone College students Eleanor Bishop, Ned Dorneget and Nick Torres.

 

At 9:46, the first football call of the night came in, a game from nearby New York state. Over the next hour, more games were called in, and Barrett, Cassidy and stringer Duke Turner filed their game stories for the early edition.

 

An hour later, all six highs crew members were on the phone, and callers were being placed on hold.

 

"Sorry sir, we don't have time to settle a bar bet," Palmer said to a caller before hanging up. "Ziva, you ready to take a game?"

 

She looked to her right and saw Werth picking up one of the overflow calls. "I am ready," she said, not noticing DiNozzo watching her. "Post-Times sports. I am Ziva. May I help you?"

 

" _Yes, I'm calling in a football game_ ," said the woman on the other line. " _Dushore at East_."

 

"Okay. What was the score?"

 

" _East 14, Dushore 3_."

 

Ziva misplaced her sheet that explained how to take an American football game and seemed lost, so DiNozzo shot out of his chair (before McGee had a chance to get to her desk) and helped her through the call. Afterwards, Ziva breathed a sigh of relief.

 

"Congrats, Zee-vah," DiNozzo said. "You took your first REAL football game with, ahem, a little help--"

 

"Help I appreciate, greatly," she said. "Now if they would only refer to this sport as gridIRON and not 'real' football."

 

"Sorry, but you and the rest of the world are welcome to call that other sport by the name we Americans have given it: soccer," he joked. "Seriously, you did good for your first time out."

 

The early edition deadline passed, and all that was left was to update the game stories and area preps roundup in addition to the national wire roundups. Everyone commented on how smoothly things were going for a high school football night, and only one thing could throw a monkey wrench into the mix.

 

At 12:16, Gibbs's desk phone rang. "Yeah, Gibbs."

 

"Boss, this is Stan," Burley said. "I'm about to drop the mother of all stories on your lap. I just spoke with Sportelli", the U of S athletic director. "He says U of S is going to the ACC."

 

Gibbs leaned back, exasperated. "Did you call Jenny? Or Vance?"

 

"I JUST got off the phone with Sportelli. I called them both but their lines were busy so I'm calling you. I've texted them both--"

 

"Tell me you have something written up, Stan."

 

"I have the first five graphs ready, the rest I can send in 20 minutes--"

 

"Make it 15," Gibbs said as his phone suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. He pushed the top button hoping it was someone within the department.

 

"Gibbs? This is Philip Davenport. I have some news you should be aware of. A good friend of mine tells me the University of Stillwater is about to receive an invitation to the Atlantic Coast..."

 

Once Gibbs got rid of Davenport, he spoke with Jenny, who patched in Jarvis, Rabb, Vance and Burley. Minutes later, sports got a reprieve: the ACC story was going on A-1.

 

Once the sports section was sent to typesetting for the metro, Gibbs went out to the newsroom. There, Fornell was in the middle of doing a final read on Burley's story. Once he finished, he told the designer to send the front page.

 

"Can't say I'm sad we didn't get to run that thing," Gibbs said. "How bad did it screw you up?"

 

"It felt like crawling into the belly of the snake next to a hornet's nest," Fornell joked. "Actually, it was pretty easy."

 

"How easy, Tobias?"

 

"We put it above the fold and moved the Senate hearings story to A-3. To do that, we had to kill a house ad."

 

"A house ad."

 

"Yeah. Rabb, Mac, Turner, Bud and Harriet had Carol make up a full-page 'congratulations to our readership from your friends in news' ad to run on three. Jarvis gave us his blessing to kill it. That gave us the room to run the story."

 

"Jarvis doesn't care what Rabb will say?" Gibbs asked.

 

"Jarvis cares more about our readers," Fornell said. "It may be a 'toybox' story but a whole lot of people in this area follow that program. I don't think they'll miss Rabb's house ad. Anyone else reporting this?"

 

"McGee and DiNozzo say no. Give it a few hours, Tobias."

 

"Yeah, but TV stations and the internet will have to give us credit on the story, Jethro. Tonight, we got the news out first and we got it right."

 

"Can't think of a better way to end a night, Tobias."

 

_\--30--_


End file.
